Harry Potter and the New Neighbors
by RoseFrederick
Summary: AU. After being relegated to the Dursley's for the summer, Harry Potter tries to deal with the events of his fifth year at Hogwarts. Meanwhile, Dumbledore tries to get a little extra mileage out of his mother's blood protection.
1. Boredom and Incompetence

**_Harry Potter and the New Neighbors_**  
Details: This is an AU occurring the summer following OOTP and disregarding HBP. It is a HP/DM beginning friendship fic, with viewpoint alternating between HP/DM. It's NOT SLASH, nothing wrong with it, but I'm not writing it. It's not intentionally OOC, but my ability to write in character may suck. Rating is T for mild curse torture and non-graphic character death. Should conclude in 8 chapters.

Disclaimer: Only J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all the other characters in his world. I'm not her.

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_Chapter One: Boredom and Incompetence_

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During the first part of summer break, were anyone to peer into the window of the smallest bedroom of the house at number 4, Privet Drive, they would find a shabbily dressed teenage boy staring off at nothing. Regardless of the time of day or night, that is how Harry Potter seemed intent on spending his summer vacation. The only change came late at night, when the boy would often wake from nightmares in a cold sweat, sometimes screaming, sometimes unable to breathe at all. 

Though the boy was not the only resident of the house at Number 4, none of the other occupants appeared to pay him the slightest bit of attention the week he returned there. They seemed intent on pretending that he didn't exist at all. Which was something that the boy mostly felt grateful for.

It was during the second week after he had returned home from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that Harry's routine changed. At first, the day seemed to begin as they all had since he had arrived at the Dursley's. Harry woke in the early morning hours, gasping, from a dream in which he'd watched his godfather die all over again. He spent the next several hours staring at the ceiling, thinking nothing in particular, feeling completely numb. Unlike the last week and a half, however, once the rest of the household got moving, Harry heard a sharp rap on the door to the room from which he'd scarcely emerged since his return to Number Four.

"Boy! Get up and get down for breakfast," the harsh voice of his Aunt Petunia called from the hallway. Though they hadn't bothered to make him come down for meals before now, Harry figured after the incident at the train station, the Dursley's were more convinced than ever they were being spied upon, and had decided that they weren't about to be blamed for Harry not eating.

Sighing in resignation, Harry made his way downstairs to the kitchen, where he was accorded a piece of toast and a slice of grapefruit, and no one dared to look directly at him. This turned out to be misleading, however. When Harry was getting up from the table, his Aunt Petunia snapped that since he had nothing better to do than mope all day, they could certainly provide him with something to occupy his time. For a moment after he was ordered out to weed her flowerbeds, Harry contemplated refusing, and possibly even trying to intimidate his relatives.

The moment passed quickly, however. What was the point? It didn't really matter enough to argue about, and at least it would give him something to keep his hands busy for a few hours. Maybe he'd even be able to go five minutes without thinking about his godfather or the prophecy hanging like a menacing dragon over his life.

Several hours of kneeling in the dirt with the sun beating down on him later, Harry felt exhausted. Yet also better than he had since before that awful night at … he shuddered and trudged wearily back into the house. It'd been nice while it had lasted.

His aunt insisted he join them for dinner, too. Harry was spacing out, thinking of nothing and trying to avoid watching Dudley sulk over his human-sized portion of food, when he heard his uncle mutter something about "freaks and weirdoes." Trying to decide whether he was being intentionally aggravated or simply addressed by Vernon Dursley, Harry looked up at his uncle. Contrary to Harry's expectation, the man's attention was fixed on the portable television set on the kitchen counter.

Harry turned slowly to watch, expecting to see something about a horrific accident, explosions, death and destruction, and was almost relieved the story was about a prison escape. Harry only had a few seconds of relief before he was struck by a cold slap of fear again, when he recognized the face of Lucius Malfoy sneering out of the television. It was followed by other faces with contemptuous expressions, undoubtedly other Death Eaters from the debacle at the Ministry, now presumably Azkaban escapees.

As the story played out, warning the muggle audience about the armed and extremely dangerous criminals, Harry began to feel more anger than fear. How could the Ministry be so _stupid_? Fudge _knew_ Voldemort was back, he'd seen the snake-faced wizard with his own two eyes! How could he not have taken better precautions and put more guards around Voldemort's captured supporters?

The rest of his dinner forgotten, Harry angrily stomped up the stairs to his room, kicking absently at nothing. With the Ministry as incompetent as it was, it wasn't going to be very long at all before Voldemort finally killed him. While part of Harry rebelliously whispered that at least then he'd get to see Sirius and his parents again, he didn't think they would be very proud of him if he didn't at least try to kill the evil wizard. Particularly since he was apparently the only one who could do it. Harry snorted to himself. Fat chance of that happening, he thought and threw himself down on his bed, punching the pillow.

Harry tossed about, his mind furiously spinning with all the horrible things that'd happened since he'd first been told he was a wizard. As he drifted off to sleep, his last thought was that maybe he'd have been better off if the Dursleys _had_ managed to somehow stamp the magic out of him, and he'd never discovered the wizarding world at all.

Before he knew it, a sleeping Harry found himself in the rickety cabin on the rock where Hagrid had appeared to give him his Hogwarts letter.

"No, I don't want to be a wizard. I'm not going to Hogwarts! You can't make me," Harry shouted at the half-giant, who just looked at him in good-natured confusion.

"But 'Arry," the half-giant replied, while scratching his beard, "you 'ave to save us all, don't ye know? You have to do what Dumbledore says. Your life, it's ours. If ye don' protect us, we'll all die. O'course half of us probably will anyway, the way you're at it, but…"

"No," Harry muttered to himself, "no." Shutting his eyes to block out the sight of Hagrid's disappointed face, Harry was relieved when he opened them again to find himself somewhere completely different. But his relief was short-lived, as he felt a surge of anger from nowhere and it registered on Harry that it wasn't his bedroom on Privet Drive he was seeing.

"Luciusss," Harry snarled while looking down at a hunched-over figure crouched at his feet. Despite the grimy and tattered robes, the long blonde hair marked the groveling man as a Malfoy. Harry felt a wave of disgust that was only marginally his own. "You've failed me. Spectacularly, I must say," he paused. "Leading a group of my most trusted Death Eaters, you were bested by a group of _schoolchildren_" he chided, the figure flinching at his tone, "and you managed to bungle things so very badly that not even the incompetent fools at the Ministry can deny my return any longer. Your failure leaves me still unaware what is protecting the Potter brat, and put a majority of my remaining servants in Azkaban! But not even that was enough for you, Lucius! How could one of my most slippery servants not manage to bide his time and fix the situation instead of staging a premature prison break?"

"I apologize, My Lord," The figure whispered hoarsely. "In our concern for keeping the prophecy intact, we allowed the Potter brat and his friends too much leeway. After the unanticipated arrival of the Order and our arrest, we did not have any further instructions. I believed with your return revealed to the world, you would wish us to rejoin you from Azkaban as soon as possible. How else could we hope to help carry out your plans and further our noble cause? I was foolish and overeager, my Lord, but I swear on the Malfoy name to do better in the future. Just tell me how I can serve you and make up for my errors. Anything you ask, I will do!" Harry could feel both the terror and the devotion of the man before him, though he certainly couldn't understand the latter coming from someone feeling the former.

Before he could become too tied up in musings about the peculiar nature of the Death Eaters, Harry felt a high-pitched, cold laugh tear itself from his throat. "I already asked you for what I wanted, Lucius. I wanted the prophecy brought to me and the Potter brat destroyed," Harry hissed. "And you expect me to forgive you _again_? After failing such a simple task so badly? After you already turned your back on me once?" Harry's eyes scanned the room once more, taking in the anonymous silhouettes in heavy black robes and white Death Eater masks. He paused and then, addressing the room at large, he continued in a soft, regretful tone, "I told you two years ago when I first returned that you, my servants, my faithless, owed me for your thirteen long years of abandonment. I thought you understood you had to _earn_ that forgiveness."

Focusing his attention back on the bowed figure at his feet, he added almost crooning, "As forgiving as I have been of you, Lucius, you keep presenting me with failures." Abruptly his tone changed to a sneer when he added, "Worse, you also lost all the connections to the Ministry you swore you worked so hard to obtain to further the cause in my absence. I have no more mercy left for you, Lucius. _Avada Kedavra_."

As he lowered his wand again, Harry heard a harsh gasp from one of the standing figures in robes. He looked up and intently eyed a short figure standing with one other, much taller, slightly apart from the rest.

He smiled at the two, and knew it was a cold reptilian smile. Then he addressed the taller of the two, the one who hadn't made a sound. "Ah, Severus. How much I've been looking forward to seeing you again. Come forward."


	2. One Last Mission

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_Chapter Two: One Last Mission_

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"My Lord," the familiar smooth voice of the Hogwarts Potions Master replied strongly as he came forward. Sidestepping the body, he bowed to the floor before rising again and waiting for instruction. Through his own surge of hatred, Harry noticed a fleeting sense of suspicion from Voldemort. 

"Am I still, Severus? Your dear friend Lucius hastened to assure me after my return that you were still acting as my spy on that old fool Dumbledore and his do-gooders. I'd seen you when I was stuck in that idiot Quirrell, and knew you were working to stay in their good graces. That's why I let you get away with not appearing at my rebirthing." His tone went from neutral to conciliatory, "After all, likely the school was in a panic and I had not told young Barty to inform you of my plans. I assumed it would be hard for you to leave without arousing suspicion, even with the help of the Muggle-loving idiot foolishly secure in his belief you were loyal to him. And you came to me later that night, to show you did remember your rightful master. It was useful to know of the Minister's convenient denials, yet I've seen little from you since then."

Harry saw one of his pale hands motion to cut off the man, who had been about to speak. "Yes, yes, Lucius faithfully passed on the bits of information you gave to him, what very little there was. Yet I discovered much more about the reformation of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix through my operatives in the Ministry, rather than from my very own Hogwarts spy. Lucius put much time and effort into convincing me it would be too hard to place anyone else in Dumbledore's sphere of trust. But what good has having you there done me, Severus? Assure me, remind me why I accepted you into my service in the first place. I find there is too much dead weight in my inner circle these days," Harry heard himself confide almost absently.

The boy was reminded strongly of the way Voldemort had conversationally mused about his dead family in the graveyard at the end of Harry's fouth year - just before the ridiculous sham of a duel meant to kill Harry. That similarity and the high sense of anticipation he felt through Voldemort gave Harry a brief feeling that was half glee and half worry at seeing Snape in trouble.

"My lord," Snape began smoothly, "though Dumbledore is a fool, the wards of Hogwarts are very sensitive to dark magic, and I feared coming to your side often would expose me, and lose what trust I have gained. Whenever I leave, the old man has fits for my safety, and has come up with so many reasons for me not to leave the school that I dare not protest too much. He trusts me with his own secrets, yet his close allies and supporters remain extremely paranoid about my past with the Dark Arts, and keep me from frequently meeting with our associates and the Defense position you originally asked me to obtain." Seeing that Voldemort/Harry was still listening silently, Snape continued on in the same smooth tone.

"As I told you on the night of your return, the old fool began reassembling some of his followers then. I've attempted to gain access to this Order of the Phoenix by offering up the information you gave Lucius for me to pass along, but Dumbledore insists the other members are still too paranoid about my past and refuse me actual entrance to the Order. I am only allowed into meetings to give information to a small group, and the Fidelus Charm prevents me from telling the location of their Headquarters. I passed their names and every bit of information they foolishly let slip in my presence to Lucius, which I assumed him to be passing to you. I believe once more of them fall I will finally be allowed in and then I can be of more real use to our cause." Despite his hatred of the Potions Professor, Harry himself knew that this was hardly true. He'd seen Snape come and go from meetings at Grimmauld Place with the same frequency as any of the others in the Order last summer, but he felt a wave of satisfaction that wasn't his own.

Harry felt his lipless mouth once again turn up into a smile. "As usual, Severus," he felt himself speaking, "you know exactly what to say. However, we have some unfinished business," Harry felt his wand arm raise. "When you pledged your loyalty to me, you swore to appear when I called, and yet you haven't responded regularly since my return. _Crucio!_" Harry watched the tall form fall, writhing, to the ground, and felt another wave of satisfaction that was stronger than his own feeling of mild disgust. Though Harry had already spent some time that summer fantasizing about various evil things befalling Snape for his part in Sirius' death, actually watching Voldemort torture the man did not give Harry any pleasant feelings.

Once the man had stopped twitching and had kneeled at his feet, Harry continued conversationally, "So Dumbledore trusts you, does he, Severus?"

"Implicitly, Master."

"And it is only these others that keep you from learning all the Order's secrets?" at Snape's sharp nod, he continued, "The old fool is that fond of you, then is he?"

"Yes, master, other than Order matters where others have too much influence, he trusts no one more than I."

"What would you do to prove your loyalty to me, Severus?" Harry heard himself ask, as his arms folded one across the other, and he knew his wand was tapping idly against the opposite forearm.

"Anything you ask, My Lord. My life is yours."

"Indeed, that is true. Very well, Severus, I have a most important task for you."

Smiling down fondly at his kneeling servant and feeling a sudden and sharp thrill of anticipation, he mused, "Now that the wizarding world is aware of my return, I can think of nothing more important than disheartening and confusing those idiot mudblood-lovers that oppose me. _Crucio!_"

He paused until he was sure the shaking man on the ground could once again hear and understand, then continued, "I realize that I have wasted too much time on Dumbledore, his ridiculous Order, and his precious Harry Potter. They are unworthy enemies and I see no further point in treating them as threats. Yet I feel I ought to send one last message to that Muggle-loving fool to show just how vulnerable he is. And what better way to hurt and discredit Albus Dumbledore than to have one of his most trusted people, _a Hogwarts Professor _no less, revealed to the world at large as a Death Eater. _Crucio!_"

The evil wizard held the curse for several minutes now, before stopping again and waiting for Snape's attention. "Of course, Dumbledore knows of your, what did you call it? Dark past?" He laughed shrilly, "And he believes you were spying for him. So the fool will probably convince himself that you were unintentionally discovered as_ his_ spy. I believe you're well acquainted with how dear Bella left the Longbottoms? As you say he's so very _fond_ of you, he'll be heartbroken to find you the same way, after you've been dumped in your Death Eater robes in Diagon Alley. Be glad you can do your Lord this one last favor, Severus. _Crucio!_"

Harry felt a surge of horror that was all his own. Yes, he hated the greasy Potions master, but nobody deserved _that_. He wondered desperately how long it took under Cruciatus to deprive someone of their sanity and if he'd have time to tell somebody. However, he soon realized that even if he managed to extract himself from this vision, he had no way to inform the Order of Snape's predicament, nor did he have any idea where Voldemort currently was. Feeling helpless, Harry tried to think harder. He was in Voldemort's mind, was there anything he could do? Even if he could distract Voldemort for a few seconds, it wouldn't be enough time for an already weakened Snape to fight his way out of a room full of Death Eaters, assuming the man even would, since he was currently making no move to help himself.

While these thoughts furiously circled Harry's mind, he felt his wand hand raising, and was about to utter the curse again, when he heard an angry exclamation from the back of the room and the short figure who'd been standing with Snape came forward.

From the ground, Harry heard the Potion Master snap in a pained voice, "Draco, No."

The boy didn't heed him, however, and ripped off the mask he was wearing to glare directly at Harry, red in the face with anger, tear tracks visible on his face. Rage evident in his voice, he practically screamed, "My father was wrong! You-you're nothing but a monster! You killed him for something _YOU _couldn't manage either! And now you're going to destroy my godfather for no reason at all! No wonder you can't even manage to kill stupid Potter, you're a joke!" As Harry felt Voldemort's eyes focus and narrow on the boy, Draco Malfoy suddenly broke off his tirade, gulping, as all at once he seemed to recall just who he was yelling at and to realize exactly how precarious a situation he'd just put himself in.

Malfoy, normally pale, was turning a ghastly shade of white and seemed to be frozen in horror at his own audacity. Not only had all the Death Eaters gone totally silent, but Voldemort himself seemed quite speechless, if only for a moment.

After staring the boy down until he began to visibly shake, the dark wizard finally took breath to speak. "It appears that stupidity and incompetence have become inherent to the Malfoy line," Voldemort hissed. "Such a pity to see a noble old bloodline fall so far. Your family would, of course, have been punished for your father's incompetence regardless. Yet with a blood traitor as the family's only heir, perhaps it's as well that the name Malfoy will be no more after tonight."

While Voldemort was paying attention only to the younger Malfoy with rapidly growing fury, Harry noticed that the Potions master had pulled an old candy tin from his robes, which he gripped very tightly in his hand, his whole frame still shaking from the torture curse. Harry realized only seconds before Voldemort's attention shifted towards the movement that this could only be a portkey. Simultaneously, several things happened. Voldemort ended his speech, Draco Malfoy unfroze and backed away a few steps, looking around wildly for a means of escape, and Snape hissed and lurched in his direction. At the same time Harry felt his wand arm raise and heard his own mouth begin to say, "_Avada Ke-"_

Without any further thought, Harry focused all his will on taking control of Voldemort's wand arm and flinging the wand away. For a few seconds, Harry was sure that he had gained control, and thought he felt Voldemort's arm move. However, it was only seconds before he felt a horrible burning pain and saw nothing but blackness, until he sat bolt upright in his bed on Privet Drive, his scar on fire, with his whole head throbbing to a white-hot rage that wasn't his.

In retrospect, Harry realized it was probably a foolish thing to do, trying to mess around with Voldemort's mind when he'd never learned to adequately protect his own. Despite what Dumbledore had said about him being safe on Privet Drive, for all he knew, Voldemort could possess him any second now. And he didn't even know if it had done any good. Voldemort had shoved him out too fast for him to see if Snape and Malfoy had even managed to get away. True, he didn't like either one of them, but he'd prefer them both alive and hateful to dead. He was just so sick of people around him dying.

Harry gradually calmed down as the minutes passed and he felt nothing else from Voldemort, and the pain in his scar eventually died away to a dull ache.

Harry tried to convince himself to go back to sleep, but had no luck. He was left staring off into space as he had done for countless hours since he arrived back at the Dursley's, but he couldn't get away from an aching need to know what had happened. Sighing to himself, Harry decided he ought to at least warn Dumbledore that he'd possibly pissed off Voldemort, and that Snape had gotten into trouble. Glad that Hedwig was back from delivering the latest required letter to headquarters, Harry pulled out a sheet of parchment and a quill. After thinking for quite a while and restarting several times - since he was worried about how to word things in case the note was intercepted, Harry wrote:

_Professor Dumbledore,  
Since I never finished my extra tutoring lessons last term, I've had trouble sleeping, particularly tonight.  
Oh, and by the way, are the two people I like almost as much as Umbridge there? I've seen them all too recently and would rather know they're far away.  
Harry_

"Hedwig, please take this to Professor Dumbledore, and wait for a reply, okay?" As Harry watched the snowy owl fly off into the night, he sighed. Still too keyed up to sleep, he went back to staring off into space.


	3. Revealing and Hiding

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_ Chapter Three: Revealing and Hiding_

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Draco Malfoy found his thoughts a confused jumble, feeling as though everything around him had suddenly changed shape without warning. All his life, there were a few things he was absolutely sure of. One, nothing was more important than upholding the Malfoy family name, and two, his father was always right. Three, any true wizard (pure bloods, of course), with an ounce of pride supported the Dark Lord. And four, Potter was a stuck up prat. 

He was still sure of the fourth, however, the events of the night before had left him doubting the rest. His father had spent his whole life, so long as Draco could remember, trying to build a power base from which to help the Dark Lord take his rightful place as ruler of the wizarding world. After years of service and efforts on his behalf, his father's only reward had been death, cowering at the feet of his so-called master. How exactly was letting someone treat you as a slave upholding the family name? In retrospect yelling at the madman and then freezing like an idiot certainly wasn't the best course of action, but the idea of practically licking the Dark Lord's scaly feet as his father had done disgusted him. Yet Draco couldn't help but be confused as both his father and his godfather, the most trusted adults in his life, had chosen to serve.

He was broken away from his confusing thoughts by a sharp rap on the door. After a moment, the door opened to reveal his godfather's tall silhouette. Seeing him awake, the man said, "The headmaster has returned. I will be speaking with him shortly. I suggest you accompany me." He paused, and for a moment, the man's harsh features softened, before he added, "I attempted to contact your mother last evening while you were in the hospital wing. I received no answer from her, and while it is possible she is perfectly fine, it is just as possible that after last night's events the Dark Lord has had her killed. I am sorry, Draco."

The boy felt abruptly shamed and shocked through the numbness that possessed him. He should have realized, should have thought of his own mother before now! He'd grown up his whole life knowing how the Dark Lord's followers treated those they considered failures or traitors, often exterminating their whole families, but somehow he just hadn't realized such a thing could happen to his own. They were _Malfoys_.

The night before, finding himself abruptly grabbed and portkeyed to Hogwarts infirmary, Draco had been stunned and deliriously happy to still be alive. Madame Pomfrey had fussed over him for at least fifteen minutes while Professor Snape had gone off elsewhere. Afterwards, as Draco's godfather returned to lead the way to his suites in the dungeons, Draco had remembered that his beloved father was still dead. Completely exhausted, the boy had possessed barely enough energy to wonder exactly how Severus Snape had managed to get a portkey bypassing the wards of the castle. He'd known that Severus was spying on Dumbledore for Voldemort and pretending to do the reverse, but if the man had easy access to portkeys into the castle, why hadn't he used them to stage an attack? Surely that would have pleased the Dark Lord immensely enough for him to want to keep the Professor in his circle?

His godfather, however, seemed to be particularly short-tempered, and Draco decided it would be best not to ask any of his questions. As the two made their way up to the Headmaster's office, Draco tried to think of some unobtrusive way to start a conversation to fill the awkward silence that had inhabited the space between them since the night before. However, between sorting his thoughts and trying to keep up with Severus's long strides, he heard the man snarl "licorice wands" at a stone gargoyle before he'd had a chance to say anything. Figuring that this meeting with Dumbledore might clear things up anyway, Draco decided to keep his mouth shut for once rather than tempting his godfather's formidable temper.

Dumbledore opened the door and ushered them in himself, saying, "Ah, Severus and young Mr. Malfoy. Come in, come in." Two plush armchairs had appeared in front of the old wizard's desk, and the three all sat. Draco took in very little of the surrounding circular room before his attention was drawn back to the Headmaster, who had started speaking. "I noticed that you used the emergency portkey I gave you, Severus. I take it you've been found out?"

Draco chanced a look over at his godfather, to find the man glaring at the Headmaster, who was looking inordinately pleased for no discernable reason. Completely barmy, that's what the man was. "Actually, no, Albus. I had to portkey out to save my godson from his own stupidity. The boy apparently has latent Gryffindor tendencies," Snape said, turning his gaze away from Dumbledore for a moment to give Draco a dark look. Draco had been able to tell Severus wasn't pleased with him, but was it necessary for him to be _that_ insulting? Draco sunk down a bit further in his seat, trying not to be obvious enough about sulking to get reprimanded. The Headmaster continued to look amused but raised an eyebrow and said jovially, "Perhaps you'd best tell it from the beginning?"

Draco listened to his godfather tell Dumbledore how after he'd left Headquarters in response to the owl, he'd met up with Draco's father at the usual place. At the Headmaster's questioning look, Snape added that Draco's father, after just escaping Azkaban, had insisted Snape bring Draco along to see him. He'd been passing over the agreed information when they were interrupted by the Dark Lord himself. Snape suspected Narcissa might have been the one to inform the Dark Lord of their whereabouts, angry as she was about Lucius' arrest and subsequent prison break, particularly since she wasn't aware Draco was there with them.

Snape then continued to dispassionately tell Dumbledore how the Dark Lord had interrogated his father and killed him, and then the Dark Lord's plan for Snape himself. The Headmaster's eyes abruptly stopped twinkling and he turned solemn, Draco noticed. Before Snape could continue, Dumbledore broke in to ask Snape why he didn't use the portkey right away.

His godfather looked away from both of them and added in a flat tone that he didn't particularly see the point, as once the Dark Lord had decided to get rid of him, he would be of no more use to the Order. When the Headmaster began to protest, he added that on top of that, regardless of Draco's loyalties, he didn't want to abandon his godson to possible questioning after his abrupt disappearance. A failed escape attempt would result in interrogation under torture that would eventually force him to reveal Order secrets.

Draco didn't hear the Headmaster's response to this, as the whole conversation had finally begun to sink in to him. Snape had told the Dark Lord that he wasn't able to get into the Headmaster's Order, and here he was saying that he'd been part of it all along, while reporting everything to Dumbledore. Reporting to Dumbledore like it was something he did every day! Snape was a traitor! After a lifetime of being taught to look up to the Dark Lord, Draco's gut reaction was betrayal, until shifting uncomfortably, he suddenly remembered that he himself wasn't particularly high on the Dark Lord's good will list at the moment, if the bastard even had one. Draco was brought back to the present moment by Dumbledore's heavy sigh.

"I see that nothing I say will have any effect on you at the moment, Severus, but I am very glad to see you safe. Would you care to explain exactly how Mr. Malfoy precipitated your escape?"

And so Snape told the Headmaster about how Draco had stepped forward and his own decision to protect the boy and portkey the both of them to safety. Draco muttered under his breath, "If I were Harry Potter I'd probably get 100 points, but no, can't reward the evil Slytherins."

He realized that his godfather and the Headmaster had both heard him, and sunk lower into his seat at Dumbledore's chuckle. "Indeed, Mr. Malfoy. I'm sure you'll understand that as it is the middle of the summer I will have to wait until term begins to award 160 points to your House, for your propitious distraction?"

Draco sneered at the Headmaster, until what he'd actually said sunk in, but before he'd had a chance to say anything, his Head of House cut in. This conversation just kept making Draco feel more and more confused – not to mention embarrassed.

"Honestly, Albus, it's bad enough that you reward the Gryffindors for idiotic Gryffindor stunts, but now you're going to encourage the other Houses into the same reckless behaviour?" Snape said, sounding exasperated.

Albus Dumbledore's eyes had regained their legendary twinkle as he peered at both of them over the rims of his glasses. Changing the subject, he added, "Nothing else of note occurred? If not, I suppose we should discuss arrangements for the rest of the summer?"

Draco watched Snape eye the headmaster suspiciously before speaking. "You always know more than you should, old man. That is not all, as it were. I waited too long to use the Portkey and we shouldn't have had time to escape. The Dark Lord was in the middle of casting the killing curse when he abruptly threw his wand at Bellatrix." At this, the Headmaster looked delighted, and chuckled again.

Snape made an impatient noise, "I do see the humor, Albus, but it is still rather disturbing. If he's finally gone completely insane that will make it even harder to predict his plans, and with me out of the circle..."

The Headmaster airily waved aside his godfather's protests and began in a chiding tone, "No Severus, after the owl I received this morning, I believe the incident has more to do with last year's failed Occlumency lessons than any mental instabilities of Voldemort's." Both Draco and Snape flinched at the use of the name, before the Professor spat, "Potter. Always Potter." At which Draco was truly bewildered. Again, before he could inquire, his godfather added, "I imagine the owl you mentioned was the idiot boy being smug about how his total inability to learn anything last year was useful?"

The headmaster gave him a stern look. "No, Severus. It was merely a note to inform me he'd seen last night's events and an expression of concern for the safety of you both, as he was apparently unaware of the success of your escape." Snape made an angry scoffing sound.

Before the professor could make further comment, Draco injected impatiently, "Headmaster, I don't understand. What does _Potter _have to do with _anything_?"

"Ah yes. I suppose we have left you in the dark, Mr. Malfoy, I'll explain briefly," the old man said to him, sitting back in his chair. "We discovered last year that Mr. Potter and Voldemort share a unique mental link. Voldemort is a skilled Occlumens and discovered the connection after several instances of Mr. Potter seeing into his mind. Ultimately, he temporarily possessed Harry during the incident in the Ministry, and I believe Mr. Potter must have attempted to do the same to him last evening, allowing you both a few extra seconds to escape." A small part of Draco got a thrill out of seeing this statement precipitate a flash of confusion across his godfather's generally composed face.

"Albus, I thought you believed after the incident in the Ministry that the Dark Lord would start Occluding his mind to keep Potter out?"

The Headmaster looked thoughtful. "Yes, that was my belief. We have to assume that either I was wrong, or that Voldemort was so angry with Lucius that he lost control of himself. I cannot believe, however, that he will leave his mind open so carelessly after Harry has managed to possess _him_." Snape nodded once, curtly, apparently agreeing with the Headmaster's assessment.

Feeling uncomfortable, Draco blurted, "Of course, Hero Potter, saving everyone. How many points does _he_ get?" more sulkily than he intended. He was mostly trying to hide how disturbed he was at the thought of the Dark Lord wandering in and out of people's heads. Draco shuddered, inordinately glad that he wasn't old enough to have taken the Mark and glad that now he'd had a chance to see the utter madness of the Dark Lord himself he wouldn't ever be making that mistake.

Dumbledore sighed, recapturing the boy's attention. "None. There are a number of things of which not even the Order of the Phoenix's members are aware, so I will not elaborate." Draco turned to his godfather, but seeing the man's best 'what are you up to now?' sneer firmly directed at the Headmaster, realized he didn't know either. Though the man did add in an undertone, "Not to mention if the brat had ever put any effort into his lessons he wouldn't have been seeing anything."

Dumbledore pretended not to hear and clapped his hands, summoning tea. "So. About the rest of the summer, then. Unfortunately, the wards on Hogwarts are being bolstered this year, and no one but the ghosts and house elves will be staying over the holidays. There are only two other options I can see, for everyone's safety."

Snape looked surprised. "Two? Anything would be preferable to the dump that is Black's house, full to the brim with Weasleys."

Twinkling like mad now, Dumbledore replied, "I did rather think you would say that, Severus. So that leaves the question, how much do you know about muggles?"

Draco heard his godfather make a half-suppressed groan of annoyance, and hiss, "I see I may have spoken too soon."


	4. Replies and Signs

.x.

* * *

.

* * *

_Chapter Four: Replies and Signs_

* * *

.

* * *

Several mornings after his disturbing Voldemort vision, Harry wasn't even waiting for his Aunt Petunia to assign him chores but rather asking her as soon as he finished his breakfast what he could do. After the first few days of this, she started to look vaguely annoyed. This morning was no different, except that her borderline angry looks had turned decidedly suspicious. Nonetheless, she sent him out to wash the windows. 

As he trudged out of the house, Harry thought back to that night he'd seen through Voldemort. Hedwig hadn't yet returned, and that had him a bit worried. The message he'd sent only really made much sense if Snape and Malfoy had gotten away safely. So the long wait could mean that Dumbledore hadn't understood the message or that he was too busy because of Snape's disappearance to write back. Harry was trying not to spend too long thinking about it, but he did want to know. Sighing, he tried to put it out of his mind and concentrate on the chore before him. Harry had finished with the windows and was getting ready to go back inside when he noticed a car pulling up to the house next door.

The house in question had been empty since Harry had come back for the summer, and as he watched, a middle-aged woman in a business suit got out and adjusted the sale sign out front to show that the house had been sold. Harry sighed, knowing it was likely all his Aunt would talk about through dinner was what their new neighbors would be like. Yesterday she'd been carrying on about the colicky baby in number two and speculating from all the late night coming and going at number five that someone must be having an affair. Harry supposed it was better than having her talking about him, but it was still irritating.

Sure enough, Petunia Dursley couldn't stay silent a moment all evening, prudishly muttering on about all the problems of their past neighbors and speculating on what would probably be wrong with these new people. As it was, Harry was thankful when he finally finished dinner and was allowed to go up to his room. Realizing how good it had been for him to have something to do the last couple days, Harry decided that he'd go ahead and start on his summer work. After their talking-to at the train station, the Dursleys hadn't dared to lock up his trunk for the summer, or even enter his room at all. Harry hadn't much cared at the time, but now he allowed himself a small smile in reminiscence of the Dursley's panic at the idea of the Order wizards encroaching on Privet Drive.

That evening, as he was working on a Transfiguration essay, or trying to, since in reality he was lost in thought, he heard a tapping on his window. Looking out, he felt a sudden wash of relief to see Hedwig had finally returned with a reply for him. He gave his owl a treat before tearing into the letter she'd brought him.

_Harry,  
Thank you for using discretion while writing your last message. In answer to your question, yes, everything's fine. I know you don't much enjoy spending time with your Aunt's family, but now you understand why it's necessary. I hope you can manage to have a pleasant summer._

At reading this, Harry sighed with relief, though he still felt a harsh twinge of annoyance at being dumped here every summer. After stroking Hedwig's feathers for a few moments, he reapplied himself to his essay for another fifteen minutes before deciding it was time to turn in. It wasn't providing him with a very effective distraction anyway.

The next afternoon found Harry mowing the lawn, so he was in an even better position than Aunt Petunia (who was, true to form, craning her neck to spy out the window) to see the moving van pull up to the house next door. Harry, however, wasn't particularly interested in watching the goings-on, and continued mowing. It was only when he felt eyes on him that he looked up to see a tall man with short brown hair staring at him strangely. Noticing that he had in fact, been noticed, the man turned and stalked off into the house, in what Harry couldn't help but feel was a somehow familiar way, though the man didn't look like anyone he knew. Shrugging it off as his own paranoia, Harry finished up the mowing and went inside. The following day found Harry indoors cleaning the kitchen, so he didn't have a chance to notice anything else about his new neighbors.

.x.

* * *

.x. 

Draco Malfoy was sulking. When he'd heard the Headmaster had offered two alternatives, and one consisted of a house full of Weasleys, he knew that the other had to be better, but he didn't know that it would be only just. Professor Snape had caught on much faster than he, muttering something about "seeing that thrice-damned muggle newspaper at headquarters," and knowing he'd somehow get stuck for it. At his look of total confusion, Severus had turned to him, looking aggrieved.

"There are very few places that we, after last night's debacle, might find refuge from the wrath of the Dark Lord. The safest of them is Hogwarts, but as you have just heard the Headmaster explain, it is unavailable until the school year starts. The next best option is the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, which is currently Unplottable and protected by a Fidelus Charm. However, its constant influx of Order members means it is in perpetual danger of being spied upon or besieged. Staying there would leave us unable to so much as go outside, lest by tracking us anyone find the Order. Worse, nearly the entire Weasley clan is living there at the moment, making for an ... _unpleasant_ situation at best. The option providing the least overt safety is a purely muggle location that the Dark Lord will avoid as powerful wards protect Potter from harm while he resides there. When one of the houses there went up for sale it was seen by certain parties in the Order as the perfect opportunity to keep a witch or wizard in the area should anything like the dementor attack of last year occur again."

With much reluctance, he'd allowed Dumbledore and his godfather to talk him into pretending to be a muggle; it wasn't like there was anywhere else he could go. By the end of the evening he was disguised with a complicated charm that changed his appearance and voice, as well as masking his magicality. Then the Headmaster had told them he'd already purchased the house and furniture and rented them a moving van, and suggested that they go to bed to get an early start the following morning. This obvious preplanning caused his godfather to mutter imprecations under his breath - but not to change his mind.

Now Draco found himself in a mostly empty, entirely muggle (he shuddered) house, surrounded by boxes and wrapped muggle furniture. Thankfully, though strangely, his godfather seemed to have a solid understanding of muggle technology, and patiently tried to explain "electricity" and various "appliances" to him. It had taken him a while to get used to using the "light switches" to illuminate the rooms, but by the end of the day, with most of their new belongings unpacked, Draco was convinced he could probably survive the summer. If those filthy muggles could do it, how hard could it be?

After a long night filled with nightmares of red eyes and his father's last moments, Draco slumped his way down to the kitchen, bleary-eyed and sullen. Once he was done with breakfast, catching himself staring blankly at a wall while his godfather read the paper, Draco told Snape he was going for a walk and went outside. He hadn't really noticed much the prior day as they moved in, but now he found himself holding back a sneer at the sheer muggleness of their current location. Did these creatures have no imagination at all? Even their houses looked identical. As he was walking down the street, he found himself walking into a small, vandalized park. Lost in thought, he didn't notice anything until, suddenly from behind him, he heard a grunting voice ask belligerently, "Who're you?"

Draco turned around to come eye to eye with the largest boy he'd ever seen – so large he'd dwarf Crabbe and Goyle. He briefly wondered if the boy didn't have to be magic to be that big and still mobile, but shook off the thought. Snape had emphasized that they would be the only wizards in the neighborhood other than Potter, and repeatedly told Draco that he would have to be very careful to seem unremarkable around the local muggles.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Draco decided he'd better say something in response to the whale's question soon. "Name's D-erek Jones. Just moved in to Number 6. Who might you be?" Draco replied coolly. Snape had spent the morning before they left Hogwarts and the day after they'd arrived here drilling Draco in the cover story they'd be telling the neighborhood.

"Dudley Dursley, Number 4. What school you go to?"

Draco rattled off the name of a mildly expensive muggle private school that they'd come up with for him to claim attending. The Dursley boy looked impressed, and offered to show him around the neighborhood. Unimpressed, but remaining polite as Snape had repeatedly warned him to be, Draco deferred that that would be acceptable – some other time, as his uncle would be expecting him home momentarily.

As he turned around to return to his house, he heard the other boy grunt and say, "You're new, so I better warn you, avoid my cousin. Wanders about the neighborhood in rags, never combs his hair, a nasty little freak. Goes to St. Brutus'," the boy seemed to expect some response to this, so Draco queried, "St. Brutus'?"

"St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. Trust me, he's nutters, but Mum and Dad were forced to take him after his shiftless weirdo parents killed themselves in a car crash."

"I see. Thanks for the warning then, Dursley," Draco replied, thinking that was decidedly odd information to be passing to random strangers. You'd think the family would be embarrassed, not telling everyone in the neighborhood!

Though he was hoping to avoid any more inane conversation, the other boy seemed all too keen to talk to him, and accompanied him back towards his house, turning in at Number 4, the house next door. Draco had a sudden thought, and went in to find his godfather, now reading what looked like a novel on the sofa.

"Pr – ahem. Uncle, what house is it that Potter lives in again?"

Snape looked up at him through newly unfamiliar features, and replied in a soft but stern tone, "Derek, you are supposed to be avoiding Potter. I thought I had made that perfectly clear?" At Draco's lack of response, Snape added darkly, "Regardless of our personal distaste for the brat, any trouble started between you would call attention here and could easily put us in a very precarious position." When Draco said he understood but still looked curious, the man finally added with one last stern look, "He's in number 4, lives with an Aunt, Uncle, and cousin, I believe."

Draco snorted, and then broke into disbelieving laughter.

"Exactly what is it that you suddenly find so amusing?"

"Oh nothing," Draco said nonchalantly, when he was finally able to get his breath back. "I was just informed that Potter is completely mental, attends a school for juvenile criminals, and was orphaned in a car crash. From his cousin, no less."

Snape raised a single eyebrow. After a moment, he said drolly, "No doubt Potter's cousin finds living with the pampered, arrogant brat during the summer just as annoying as we do during the school year." Draco smirked in response. Part of him still thought it'd been a very odd thing for Dursley to say. Yet if, Merlin forbid, Draco had been forced to grow up in the same house as goody-two-shoes Potter, he'd surely be doing something along the same lines. Infinitely more sophisticated, of course, but what could one really expect from the limited minds of muggles?


	5. Discovery and Denials

.x.

* * *

.

* * *

_Chapter Five: Discovery and Denials_

* * *

.

* * *

A week and a half after Draco met Dudley, Harry was out planting more flowers in Aunt Petunia's flowerbeds. Part of Harry found it amusing that a few summers ago, his Aunt and Uncle would have been furious if Harry hadn't done any chores, and this year they seemed to be furious he was volunteering to do chores. Then again, Harry thought to himself, what they really hated was for Harry to be remotely happy or to get anything he seemed to want, so it did make sense in a perverse sort of way. 

After he'd been working for several hours, Harry felt someone watching him, and turned to look towards the new house. Sure enough, a boy that looked near his own age was standing on the sidewalk at the property line, just staring at him. As Harry looked at him questioningly, the boy only continued to stare. Since he'd gone off to Hogwarts, he'd noticed that many of the neighbors looked askance at him. Harry assumed that they'd gotten the same sorts of stories about him as 'Aunt' Marge, but then again, he did look more than a bit silly in Dudley's old castoffs, so that could just as easily be the reason. Shrugging it off as unimportant, he went back to planting.

"You don't look _too_ much like an insane criminal," a voice Harry didn't recognize finally drawled from behind him. Briefly, Harry wondered if the Dursley's really did send a note 'round when anyone moved in telling new neighbors he was mental. Then again, if all the neighbors were as gossipy as Petunia Dursley, maybe he shouldn't be surprised at how fast everyone heard about him. Seeing as he only spent a few months at most at Privet Drive anymore, it didn't much matter what the Dursleys or their neighbors thought, though.

"Well, I guess it just goes to show you can't judge by looks, huh?" Harry replied jokingly, not bothering to turn away from his work.

He heard the other boy make a strangled choking noise, and might have turned to look if he hadn't continued on to say, "What _are_ you doing, anyway?"

Thinking that was a tremendously stupid question, Harry nonetheless replied, "Planting flowers."

"Why?"

Harry thought of numerous flippant responses, several of which involved confessing to nefarious plots to take over the world one flowerbed at a time, but finally settled on the truth. "I needed something to do. Oh, and for some reason it currently annoys my Aunt to no end when I volunteer to do housework."

Harry didn't know what the other boy would have replied to this, because at that moment, his cousin Dudley emerged from the house, and after asking why he was talking to the freak, lead him off. Harry knew from what he'd overheard at the kitchen table that Dudley had been hanging around the new kid for more than a week, since quite a few of his friend's – or more aptly, gang member's - families were away on holiday at the moment.

Hours later, dirty and sweaty, Harry returned to the house to wash up for dinner. When he came back down to the kitchen, he noticed that another place was set, and Dudley and the new kid were both there. Since Dudley had begun boxing last year, the diet of the house had significantly changed, and to everyone's relief no longer consisted entirely of wilted salads and carrot sticks. Harry still got much smaller portions than everyone else, of course, but it was a relief to not entirely rely on owl posts from his friends for food as he had in the past.

Since Dudley was going on about something or other, Harry tuned out the conversation entirely, thinking that maybe he'd write to his friends. So far this summer, he'd only written the Order every three days as ordered, and Dumbledore the one time. He wasn't trying to cut off his friends, but he was still in shock over Sirius' death. After the extra time at the Dursley's with nothing to do but think, he'd lost most of his anger at everyone else over what had happened fairly quickly. Now Harry just found himself struggling through a mire of grief. He hadn't wanted to inflict his melancholy on his friends, but it was probably time that he made at least an effort to communicate with them. He didn't want them to start worrying because he hadn't written, but he just couldn't think of anything to say whenever he picked up a quill.

Engrossed in his own thoughts, Harry didn't realize at first what he'd heard, and only realized that something had gone very wrong with his relatives when quiet abruptly descended on the room, only broken by the sound of someone's utensil hitting the floor. Harry suddenly realized that the last word he'd heard had been "muggles," and he looked up in startlement to see his Uncle turning purple, his Aunt turning white, and his cousin whimpering and covering his mouth and backside. The neighbor boy was simply sitting at the table, looking back and forth between all of them, his expression chagrined and confused.

Harry's uncle began to sputter and turn purple, symptoms Harry himself was terribly familiar with. "T-t-that's one of _their_ words. Y-y-you're one of _t-them_! I WON'T TOLERATE THAT ABNORMALITY IN MY HOUSE!" The man roared before beginning to lean menacingly towards the neighbor kid.

"Excuse me, Mr. Dursley, I think there must be a misund-" the boy began calmly.

His Uncle, Harry was unsurprised to see, was having none of it, and roared, "Out! It's bad enough to have one freak in the house, we certainly aren't inviting more in. OUT! OUT!"

The boy just stared at Vernon with a bewildered look, as if he didn't understand what was going on. As Vernon stood and began to advance around the table, Harry decided it was time for some practical advice, and he hissed under his breath, trying not to call Vernon Dursley's attention to himself, "He means it, you'd best leave _now_!"

Somehow in their hysteria, the Dursleys had temporarily forgotten Harry was there, and Harry's intervention went unnoticed by everyone except the horrified boy, who gave him an indecipherable look and took off out the back door. Harry wanted to just finish his meal in peace but he was not remotely surprised when he felt eyes on him, and looked up to see all his relatives staring accusingly. Deciding that he was seconds from being sent to his room anyway, Harry sighed and said in an irritated tone, "Nobody told _me_ anything about any of _us_ moving into the neighborhood," and left the table as fast as he could. He heard angry spluttering from Vernon Dursley, but no one ordered him back downstairs.

Upon reaching his room, Harry temporarily nixed the idea of sending letters off to his friends, and quickly wrote to the Order, asking them if they knew that wizarding folk had moved into the neighborhood. Harry had only seen one other person going into that house and didn't know if the man was a wizard or not, but since Mrs. Figg had told Harry that no other wizards lived in the neighborhood, he felt he ought to make sure the Order knew about this. True, Voldemort wasn't supposed to be able to touch him here, but after the trouble he'd gotten everyone into just recently from acting rashly, it didn't hurt to be cautious.

Harry was restless, and worried, but still generally trusted Dumbledore's assurances that he'd be safe so long as he resided in the Dursley's house. Yet he also decided not to leave the house itself until he was sure that the Order knew about the wizards in the area. He'd already taken enough chances, and if the Order had to come rescue him again and someone else got hurt or ... or died, Harry just didn't think he could deal with it.

The next day, Harry was relieved when Hedwig returned with a note for him stating that the Order did, in fact, know about the wizards living in the house next door, and Harry did not have to worry about them. Harry couldn't help but wonder how there was a wizarding boy his age who was obviously English and yet didn't attend Hogwarts, though Harry suddenly realized the boy might have been another squib, if the letter hadn't just confirmed there were wizards next door.

After a few more moments to think about it, once the relief that nothing nefarious was underway had a chance to dissipate, he also felt an echo of the anger that had filled him for most of last year. If the Order knew about this, why couldn't they have told Harry? Were these wizards part of the Order themselves, sent there to keep an eye on him? After all, why else would anyone try and make friends with Dudley? Dumbledore had said there wouldn't be more secrets, and here less than a summer later, that already wasn't true. He was supposed to save the wizarding world but couldn't even be told there were wizards moving into his neighborhood? Just like he couldn't be told about Mrs. Figg, or the prophecy or who even knew what else Dumbledore didn't think he needed to know?

Maybe he didn't entirely deserve to be treated like an adult after he'd so recklessly lead his friends and the Order into danger at the Ministry. Yet Dumbledore had left him to make his own decisions about the fight with Voldemort since his first year. Surely after everything Harry had done in the past, and how deeply the prophecy slated him to be involved in the future, he at least deserved to be treated better than a little kid, if not an adult!

* * *

.x.

* * *

Draco couldn't believe he'd been that stupid. All that time Snape had spent telling him about muggle things and how to act like one of them during the first couple days spent here in Surrey, and after barely a week he blew their cover. After the Dursley boy had shown him around the neighborhood, it had become pretty clear to Draco that the other muggle boys looked to Dursley in much the same way Draco's own House at Hogwarts looked to him. Knowing that, it seemed extremely prudent not to offend the large boy. It was only a few hours later that it really dawned on Draco that Dursley no doubt had all kinds of incriminating dirt on Potter. With a feeling of near glee, he'd decided to befriend the large boy. 

It'd been hard at first to force himself to endure the muggle's unpleasant company and banal attempts at conversation, but he was a Slytherin, damn it, and the opportunity to embarrass his nemesis was just too good. Though Dudley hadn't mentioned his cousin much so far, it was obvious they didn't get along, and Draco had high hopes for future Potter-bashing. After nearly a week of following Dursley about, despite the brain-numbing boredom that had entailed, he accepted the dinner invitation the other boy extended with satisfaction. Draco assumed it would be the perfect first step to finding out all kinds of embarrassing things he could tell Hogwarts about Potter's home life. Draco even let himself hope that it might be enough to keep a few people in Slytherin from completely shunning him.

Things had been going fine, no, better than fine - until he'd opened his stupid mouth halfway through the meal and put his foot in it. His godfather had been giving him the same lecture over and over for years about how he needed to think more and talk less. How it wasn't _Slytherin_ that Draco couldn't control his temper or his mouth. Draco hadn't really listened, especially considering Severus' own legendary temper, but maybe his godfather did have a point.

At the Dursley's, they'd been eating up his stories about his prestigious boarding school and family connections so eagerly he'd slipped from carefully-worded hints into pure boasting without a thought. From there, it had been a very short step into completely forgetting himself. How could he have been so careless as to call the muggles what they were in front of the only ones in the neighborhood who would know what it meant? Snape was going to kill him, or worse, send him off to stay with the Weasleys. Draco shuddered at that horrifying notion and kicked at a rock.

He'd been shocked at their reactions. True, after the few stories he'd gotten off Potter's cousin so far, it was obvious his family didn't much like him, but he'd had no idea just how deep that dislike ran. After all, if anyone could understand how absolutely unbearable Potter was, it was Draco, but apparently, they hated anything to do with magic. That was simply bizarre! Surely the muggles should be proud to have a wizard in their family, even if a half-blood was only a wizard by pure technicality. Then again, it was Potter. Perhaps the muggles were smarter than he was giving them credit for, being embarrassed by anyone knowing they were related to the-boy-who-lived-to-annoy?

He'd only had a few moments to silently gloat that Potter had grown up in their magic-hating house and not been worshipped like he was at Hogwarts. Before he'd had a chance to really savor the information, it had become apparent the fat Uncle was actually going to lay hands on him if he didn't beat a hasty enough retreat!

The whole evening had definitely been disconcerting, but what did he really know about muggles? Maybe the muggles were the reason that Potter was such an obnoxious snot at Hogwarts? After all, every time he'd seen Potter so far, the other boy had been doing chores. Maybe the muggles kept him busy just so he didn't have time to annoy them constantly? Draco himself knew of at least two exceptions Potter had gotten from practicing magic here in Surrey, perhaps the muggles had even better reason than he knew to hate magic? Potter generally wasn't the type to start a fight at school, but Draco had been wanting to hex that fat lump, Dudley, for days now, so maybe that didn't mean anything.

It didn't matter what the deal with Potter was, anyway. Draco's real problem was his stupid slip-up. How could he smooth things over without ending up trapped with the Weasel clan? He was a bit surprised that Potter hadn't chased him down to demand to know who he was. After all, that seemed like something the idiot Gryffindor would do. Not that Draco felt remotely ungrateful for the chance to think, but it did seem out of character. He suddenly grinned to himself thinking that possibly Potter was too busy fending off the fat, angry muggle to investigate anything.

Draco put off going home as long as he could, not wanting to have to admit to Snape what he'd done and unable to come up with any good way to excuse his mistake. Soon enough, however, it was getting dark, and realizing that worrying his faux-Uncle wouldn't put him in any better mood to hear the bad news, Draco turned his steps back towards the muggle house he was currently stuck living in. As he made it back down the street and turned up the walk, he was disheartened to see his godfather standing in the doorway, a look of strong displeasure prominent on his face.

As soon as Draco got close enough, the man hissed, "Get inside, now!"

Directed by a pointed finger to a seat in the front room, Draco waited for his godfather's anger to erupt at him. It wasn't something that happened often, but when it did it was awful. The only way the man could be this angry was if he somehow already knew what Draco had done. The boy cursed himself for not realizing that if he stalled he might lose the opportunity to be the first to tell the man about the incident and frame it in a better light. Potter had probably sent off an owl whining to Dumbledore about not being told about wizards moving in next door the moment Draco had left. He should have realized when Potter didn't interrogate him that scarhead would demand someone else tell him what was going on.

Severus Snape paced back and forth across the room in front of him, every line of the man rigid with aggravation. Finally, after what seemed like forever to Draco, his godfather began to speak in fiercely controlled tones.

"I shouldn't have to remind you that our very lives depend upon our identities remaining completely secret. Yet apparently, I do! I have just received a message from the Headmaster informing me Potter has become aware of strange wizards in the neighborhood. He assures me that Potter's family will not be inclined to tell anyone else. Yet their knowledge is harm enough! For the moment, we may remain here, as you did manage to avoid being so _very obvious_ that a daft brat like Potter could immediately figure out who you are. However, if the Dursleys or Potter suddenly decide to spread any information about us being anything but normal muggles, or if you slip up again, at the very least we will spend the rest of the summer with the entire clan of Weasleys and Granger. That is the _pleasant_ option! _Do you understand_?" At Draco's nod and sick look, he turned his back on the boy, and snapped, "Good. Go to your room, I can't stand to look at you right now."

The next day, his godfather pointedly didn't speak to him in the morning and after a few hours of uncomfortable silence, Draco decided to go outside. Seeing him go towards the door, Severus gave him a dark look, but refrained from saying anything further. His godfather was no doubt already annoyed from watching him fidget for hours. Draco spent a while aimlessly wandering the neighborhood, something he'd probably be horrified to learn was a favorite pastime of Harry Potter. Lost in thought about how reckless he'd been lately, he didn't hear the heavy footsteps behind him.

"Hey Derek!"

Draco turned around slowly, giving his best sneer. "I thought I was a dirty freak you didn't want in your house?" He wasn't _exactly_ frightened of the Dursley boy, but as Snape had confiscated his wand when they arrived to keep him out of trouble, and the boy was extremely large, he was definitely inclined to be cautious.

The huge boy looked a bit sheepish and started to reach simultaneously for his rear and his mouth at the same time, but seemed to make himself stop. 'What was that all about, anyway?_'_ Draco wondered.

"Sorry about that. It's just my cousin, well, he's one of _you people_ and we've been afraid of him ever since he started going to _that school_."

Draco briefly contemplated seeing if the boy would still tell him that Potter attended a school for criminals, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. "So what do you want?"

"I just wanted to ask you a question," the boy said nervously.

While Dursley continued to just stand there fidgeting, Draco made an impatient noise that caused the boy to jump and squeak, which was really quite amusing. Apparently he wasn't kidding about them being afraid of Potter. Afraid of Potter! Draco snorted to himself, thinking, 'how ludicrous was that?' Even if they were muggles! Meanwhile, the Dursley boy had finally gotten up the courage to speak, though he spit out his questions all in a rush that Draco could barely understand.

"Er, arethereactuallysuchthingsas D-dementoids, or whatevertheyare? Like, ifyoufeltallthe, er, happiness, suckedoutofyou, that c-couldn't have been a, er, s-spellsomeoneputonyou?"

"Dementors, you mean? No, there aren't any spells like that."

"So if these Demen-thingys attack, the only way to get rid of them is to do m-magic, they don't just go away on their own?"

"No they don't go away on their own if they're after you. Why are you so interested in Dementors, anyway?" Draco remembered that both Umbridge and Snape had said something about a dementor attack on Potter, but he hadn't really heard any details.

"Oh, no reason," at Draco's glare the boy continued. "E-Except last summer, walking home, my cousin was threatening me with his-his _thing_. I felt so awful, like I'd never be happy again. I punched him but it didn't stop. He claimed, like he always does, that he didn't do it and said he'd made the things doing it stop, but I couldn't see anything attacking. Figured he was lying. I just want to know the truth, see?"

Draco considered muttering something uncomplimentary about Potter, but remembered that even if their muggle cover was blown to Potter's family, he didn't need to make it any worse by giving anyone clues to who they actually were. Potter was currently the wizarding world's darling again after that stunt at the end of the school year, so random strangers wouldn't be too likely to insult him, or lie about Dementors.

Finally, the boy settled for saying grudgingly, "No, he couldn't have been, there's no effect like that of Dementors. You ought to count yourself lucky, not all adult wiz-" and seeing the Dursley boy cringe he stopped in irritation without finishing the word, "can do that spell, let alone at our age." Except stupid, attention-seeking Potter, he thought. Belatedly he wondered if there wouldn't have been _some _way to lie and sic the cousin on Potter without making his personal hatred of the boy obvious. Regretfully, Draco considered the missed opportunity as just more of the same miserably bad luck that had put him here to begin with.

Remembering his godfather's words from the night before, he added, "You aren't planning on telling anybody about me are you?"

Dursley looked mildly confused, as if he didn't understand the question, which considering how little intelligence the boy had displayed so far, wouldn't be surprising. As he continued to be unresponsive, Draco added, "Not specifically, of course, but generally warning the neighborhood off, as you do to your mentally-challenged cousin?"

Dursley looked scared of him for a moment and then squeaked, "N-no, not unless you want me to?"

Draco smirked and told him no, he didn't, and turned to head back towards the house. This time, the Dursley boy didn't attempt to accompany him. When Draco got back to the house, his godfather motioned for him to sit, and explained their newly supplemented identities, assembled purely for Potter who would doubtlessly investigate them, sooner or later.


	6. So Who Are You, Anyway?

.x.

* * *

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* * *

_Chapter Six: So Who Are You, Anyway?_

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* * *

Harry had finally gotten around to writing to his friends, so he was not surprised to find Hedwig waiting for him with a letter from Hermione and Ron a few days after he received the Order's reply. It'd taken him a little while to burn off the worst of his anger at being kept in the dark again. It finally came down to a matter of options. There was too much about the wizarding world that he loved to give it up to Voldemort, and too much he loved about Hogwarts to leave despite Dumbledore's heavy-handed treatment of him. That didn't mean he would forget or forgive this. Surely being an integral part of the prophecy of Voldemort's possible defeat would give Harry some kind of leverage he could use?

Harry hadn't realized quite how much he had missed hearing from his friends this summer, and because of that was able to read their letter from headquarters without being reminded his godfather's loss. He was even able to find quite a bit of amusement at the two arguing with each other on paper. Ron was complaining bitterly that the Greasy Git was staying at Headquarters to avoid Voldemort's wrath, and that for some reason no one would explain Malfoy was there, too. Hermione (Harry could just see her rolling her eyes at Ron) insisted it was silly of Ron to complain so much when the Professor and their classmate were almost never out of their rooms, and those were on the far side of the house from everyone else.

Harry wrote them a brief reply, mentioning the Order wizard stationed next door and responding to Hermione's inquiry about how far he'd gotten on his summer homework. He was tempted to tease them that he knew why Malfoy was at Headquarters, but as they'd all been warned repeatedly that owl post was not a secure method of communication, he decided against it. Besides, Harry didn't feel too bad for getting a little payback for them not telling him _anything_ last summer, so let them wonder.

After he headed down and had breakfast, before Harry could even think to ask his Aunt for something to do, she scowled at him and chased him out of the house, telling him to at least _try_ and behave like a normal boy for once. So Harry found himself wandering Privet Drive aimlessly. As usual, several of the neighbors peered out at him disapprovingly from their windows. Harry briefly contemplated going up to the door of number six and checking out the occupants, but he dismissed the notion fairly quickly. He hadn't recognized the older wizard and certainly didn't know the boy. While he was still angry at Dumbledore for keeping yet more secrets, the pain of what had happened the last time he investigated something Dumbledore hadn't seen fit to tell him was too much to bear again.

Harry found himself abruptly sitting on the curb as it hit him all again in a wash of horror that he'd really never see Sirius again. These several weeks later, at times he could almost forget. With Sirius on the run, it hadn't been that often he'd been able to communicate with his godfather, and he'd sometimes forget and feel like it was just one of those long silent times in between letters. Then, out of absolutely nowhere, it would suddenly hit him that Sirius was _gone_.

Harry didn't really know how long he'd been sitting there, lost in his regrets, when he sensed someone standing behind him. Turning around slowly, he saw the boy his cousin had befriended before Dudley had known he was involved in Harry's world. Harry was curious, however he refrained from saying anything, waiting for the other boy to speak. Besides, Harry wasn't really sure what to make of the assessing look being leveled at him. Finally, as Harry was just about to get up and walk away, having had enough of being stared at, the other boy spoke. "So you're the famous Harry Potter, then?"

Harry remembered their last brief conversation and volunteered, with a bit more sarcasm than was probably strictly warranted, "Yeah, and according to the _Prophet_, I'm not an insane criminal. At least not this week, anyway. I don't think you've introduced yourself?"

"Derek Jones, wizard. Dumbledore asked my uncle to move here as a favor to keep an eye on you, suppose he figured a family would fit into the neighborhood better than most of his Order. We were supposed to impersonate muggles," the other boy winced before admitting, "but you saw me botch that."

Harry looked at the other boy enquiringly. If the boy lived with his uncle who was an Order member and therefore obviously trusted Dumbledore, why would he not go to Hogwarts? When the boy didn't provide any further information, Harry asked just that.

The other boy turned away from him and added in a flat tone, "My mum. She was diagnosed with a rare disease at St. Mungos when I was 10, and they didn't think she'd live for more than a few years. My dad died in the war with" he paused, "You-Know-Who, and my uncle had been helping her raise me. Since they both had good NEWT scores in all the core subjects, Dumbledore and the school board agreed that I could be taught at home until she…"

As the other boy broke off, Harry felt a brief flush of embarrassment for having asked what had turned out to be such a personal question. "Er, I'm sorry to hear about your mum. I didn't mean to pry, but you know I was raised by muggles and I thought everybody went to Hogwarts…" Harry replied awkwardly, trailing off into silence.

Despite Harry's apparent gaff, he just shrugged. "Most everyone does, it's harder to arrange the OWLs and NEWTs if you don't attend one of the main Wizarding schools. As it was, they didn't expect me to miss more than a year or two at most," he added in an even tone. Then slightly more somber he said, "She lived longer than they ever expected and just passed away earlier this year, so I never did go to Hogwarts. Now with my uncle busy doing Order work, it's possible I may start there this year. I just took my O.W.L.s a few weeks ago."

"Oh. That'd put you in my year. Any idea what House you'd be in?"

"Well," the other boy paused, and after hesistating a moment took a seat beside Harry on the curb, "Uncle and Dad were both Slytherin, I think, and Mum was a Ravenclaw. Definitely not Gryffindor or Hufflepuff," the boy said slightly disdainfully, "I'm not the type."

Harry watched the other boy eye him, waiting for a reaction, and wondered how long he'd have to put up with random strangers expecting him to have fits because of the idiots at the_ Prophet_. In the end, he decided to just ignore it. "Oh. Well, I'm in Gryffindor, and I've got a couple friends in Ravenclaw, but I don't really get on with any of the Slytherins."

The other boy gave him a speculative look, as if trying to decide something, and then added, "Uncle said Gryffindors think all Slytherins are evil, so I'm not exactly surprised."

"Well, I doubt they're _all _evil, but quite a few of them in my year have Death Eater parents, so you can imagine that doesn't exactly promote warm fuzzies between us," Harry shrugged.

"So if you found out that one of your friends had almost been sorted into Slytherin, you wouldn't automatically trust them any less?" The boy asked suspiciously. Harry felt a bit bad about prying so deeply into the other boy's personal life unwittingly. Since he was really quite eager to have someone here on Privet Drive that he could actually talk to, he decided to divulge a personal detail of his own to try and put the other boy at ease.

"If I did, I'd be a huge hypocrite since I had to talk the Hat out of putting me there," Harry replied, then smiled slightly, though as the other boy was staring intently at his hands, Harry doubted he saw. "But since we're all convinced Slytherins are evil maybe it'd be best if you didn't tell any of my Gryffindor friends about that if you do come to Hogwarts," Harry said jokingly, which did cause the boy to give him a wan smile. Encouraged, Harry decided to change the subject, asking, "So who's your quidditch team?"

That evening, as Harry wandered back into Number 4, he thought that maybe spending the summer with the Dursleys wouldn't be so bad this year with someone his age from his world to talk to. Granted, the other boy seemed a bit strange and standoffish and he certainly wasn't Hermione or Ron, or even Neville, for that matter, but they'd had a fun, lively conversation about quidditch teams. It was such a relief after all those years of going stir crazy waiting for the next owl with no one to really talk to.

* * *

.x.

* * *

Weeks ago, at the end of term, as he left Hogwarts, if anyone had told Draco Malfoy that he'd be spending his summer attempting to befriend Harry Potter for any reason, even potential blackmail material, he would have hexed them. Several times. In particularly sensitive spots. Yet that was exactly what he found himself doing. For all that he knew Potter was a stuck up prat, he found the other boy surprisingly easy to get along with. Then again, Draco told himself, it was likely that he was just so desperate for non-muggle company even Potter started to seem like an acceptable companion. 

At first, Draco tried to hide what he was up to from his godfather, but unfortunately, his lack of complaint in itself seemed to clue the man in to the fact that Draco was hiding something. Though his godfather didn't forbid him from spending time with Potter, he did make him sit through yet another session of dire warnings about what would happen should he slip again and Potter make an issue of who they were.

Draco took it as a personal challenge to keep Potter completely clueless as to not only his identity, but also his feelings towards the other boy. Though sometimes it almost hurt not to make fun of Potter, Draco really wanted to avoid another stern lecture from his godfather. If Potter suspected anything was amiss from the occasional awkward silences in their conversations, he certainly didn't let on.

After he'd spent a week off and on talking with Potter, he even invited the other boy over to 'his' house. His godfather was spending the morning brewing some rather complicated potion or other in the kitchen and didn't even notice when the two boys entered the house and made their way upstairs. While he knew he probably should have warned Severus in advance, Draco couldn't bring himself to _not_ invite the other boy over. Potter made a passing comment about always losing to his friend the Weasel at wizard's chess, and all but jumping at the chance to finally beat Potter at _something_, Draco had immediately suggested they use his set to play a few games.

An hour or so later, while the two boys were engrossed in a game, out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Severus stride into his room and stop short at the sight of Harry Potter chatting amicably with him while being thoroughly trounced at wizard's chess. It was just as well that Potter was facing away from the door, as Draco didn't know what he would have made of the flabbergasted expression on his godfather's face. The man quickly regained a neutral expression, however, and cleared his throat to get their attention.

"Derek, I'll be spending the better part of the evening at Order headquarters. I trust that you can manage to stay out of trouble for a few hours at least, this time?" Draco flushed slightly, realizing that he _was_ going to get another lecture about endangering them by spending time with Potter and potentially revealing their identities later. Which did slightly irk Draco, as they'd made trips to Headquarters and used several very complex spells to convince Potter's friends that he and the Professor were actually staying there, and as such couldn't be living on Privet Drive. Between that and his being civil to the Gryffindork boy-wonder, it wasn't exactly going to be the first thought to enter Potter's head!

While Draco was feeling embarrassed and annoyed for being treated like a child, his godfather turned to the other boy and added, "Mr. Potter. I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Derek's Uncle Steven. We were originally meant to contact you after getting settled in to our muggle identities. However, Derek's indiscretion at the Dursley residence occurred first. The Order asked us to move here to insure your safety against such attacks as the one that occurred last year. Though perhaps with your record, you might feel you don't require such protections?"

It was decidedly strange to Draco to watch his godfather speak levelly to the boy-who-lived-to-annoy, and even more so to hear said boy reply, in a friendly tone, no less, "After almost being expelled just for keeping my soul from being sucked out? No, thank you, sir. After last year it's good to know that there is a wizard in the neighborhood if something else happens, though I would have liked it if Professor Dumbledore had just told me you were here. It would have been comforting to know, and I wouldn't have gotten worried after that dinner."

"Be that as it may, perhaps your guardians would prefer that you were not here without supervision?"

Draco watched as Harry blinked, and replied, "Sir, if you'd prefer I not be here while you're out, I'll go, but frankly I don't think the Dursley's care where I am or what I do so long as the neighbors don't find out about my 'abnormality'."

Snape gave the other boy a questioning look. Potter sighed, and said, "I guess neither Derek nor Dumbledore told you? My relatives did take me in, but they don't like me very much. They hate magic and their worst fear is that anyone will find out that they're related to '_those people_'."

The man sniffed in disdain, though whether it was directed at Potter or his relatives, Draco couldn't tell. After looking more intently at Harry for a moment and raising an eyebrow, Severus asked, "Is that why you insist on wearing rags, to embarrass them?"

Potter's brow wrinkled for a moment, before he gave the man a half-smile, "No, though you would think they'd be embarrassed about me dressing like this. These are Dudley's old clothes, I'm not fit to spend money on." At Derek's astounded look, Harry gave a depreciating laugh and added, "Hey, at least since I got my Hogwarts letter I get decent uniforms for school. I even get to sleep in an actual bedroom now that they're paranoid about being spied upon. My room was the cupboard under the stairs before Hogwarts so Dudley could have a second room."

"You must be joking. Surely Dumbledore..." Derek asked, appalled, despite himself, that the wizarding world's darling was being treated like an ill-trained pet by a couple of muggles.

"Dumbledore knows all about it, of course. I think the general feeling is that at least with my Aunt and Uncle I'm still alive." Harry shrugged, though Draco did detect a clear edge of bitterness in his voice. Draco saw Snape nod curtly at them both, and stride out of the room. After a moment, the two boys resumed the chess game that the Professor had interrupted.

When Harry left a few hours later, Draco let himself be distracted by what he'd just learned about Potter. He'd known even when they were just first years at Hogwarts that there was something off about the relationship between boy wonder and his muggle relatives. When he'd tried to tease Potter about being unwanted and left behind over Christmas that year, Potter hadn't even responded. Even then, a tiny part of him couldn't help but think it was despicable muggles could get away with treating any wizard like that, even Potter. He wanted to think that Potter was just feeding them a whole tangle of lies, but after the crazy night at the Dursleys Draco had trouble believing that was the case.

The worst part was that despite having learned all these horribly embarrassing things about Potter, there was no way he could use them at Hogwarts. Not because he felt bad or any hogwash like that, but because he'd never convince anyone they were true! Stupid Potter couldn't even have proper, believable embarrassing secrets.


	7. A Smooth Interlude

.x.

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* * *

_Chapter Seven: A Smooth Interlude_

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* * *

At first, things had been awkward between him and Derek. Despite their shared connection to the wizarding world and the Order, their conversations were often filled with long pauses and it was obvious they didn't exactly agree on a great many things. Like when Harry had gotten onto the subject of the _Prophet_ and complained about all the press he got, Derek had given him a look of such disdain and disbelief that Harry had been taken aback. The other boy had quickly re-schooled his features and tried to joke about giving Harry advice on managing his public image, but not before Harry had seen how ridiculous the other boy thought Harry's complaining about the attention was. After having to deal with Ron's jealousy in his fourth year, Harry wasn't entirely baffled by that kind of reaction, but it did still annoy him. That had only been one of many subjects that left them sitting in an awkward silence. 

Yet despite their differences of opinion, Harry kept meeting up with the other boy day after day. At least Derek was a wizard, and wasn't judging Harry negatively because of the rubbish the Dursleys told the neighborhood. It wasn't as if all of their time spent together ended badly, either. They both liked quidditch, though they favored different teams; they agreed on an intense dislike of the Minister; and both were curious and liked to speculate about what the Order was up to. As the days of summer wore on, the two boys became far more adept at sensing which subjects they should avoid with each other and the silences that happened between them started to be companionable more often than not.

Really, even if he and Derek didn't quite get along all the time, it was such a relief to have someone right there with him that he could talk to. Ron and Hermione were his best friends and he couldn't ask for better ones, but they were holed up far away in Order headquarters and writing letters just wasn't the same. Harry even found himself wondering briefly if maybe it hadn't been a little too easy to start talking to Derek despite their disagreements, and that maybe he shouldn't have told Derek and his Uncle anything about his life at the Dursleys.

After that first conversation at their house with Derek's uncle, the other boy had asked him about things his relatives had done because they hated magic. Since this was one of the first things the two boys discovered that they could completely agree on – that the Dursleys were awful – Harry generally obliged. It wasn't exactly that he was embarrassed or thought that Derek would tell anyone, since they were friends, after all, but talking about the humiliations he'd suffered with the Dursleys did leave Harry with a vague uneasy feeling.

Yet with his Hogwarts letters being addressed to the cupboard under the stairs and the Order posting guards on him all last summer, surely everyone in the Order already had some idea of what the Dursleys were like? Probably the only reason Derek's uncle had seemed surprised was how recently he'd started actively working for the Order. Harry didn't like that he had to stay with the Dursleys or that the Order knew about his life there, but he was willing to accept all of it as a necessary evil in keeping him safe from Voldemort.

Despite himself, Harry found he was actually beginning to enjoy his summer. He had gotten into the habit of exchanging owls with Ron and Hermione every few days after he'd finally made himself write that first one. Though theirs were often forcedly cheerful, Harry was still glad to hear from them about the twin's latest inventions and even Hermione's worried speculation about receiving their O.W.L. results. He even received an owl or two from Hagrid, Ginny, and Remus telling him minor chatty things about their lives, once he'd begun corresponding with his closest friends on a regular basis.

While just last year Harry might have lashed out at them angrily for trying to coddle him, he had spent enough time railing against the world and being miserable to finally realize they were just trying to show they cared about him. Aside from the frequent owls, he also found himself spending rather a lot of time over at the Jones's house. Harry almost couldn't believe just how refreshing it was to not be completely isolated all summer from people who could actually stand to be around him. Chatting with Derek about Quidditch and playing Wizard's Chess and the occasional game of Gobstones during his free afternoons after doing some chores around the Dursleys really helped Harry to keep his mind occupied and gradually stop spending so much time feeling so very awful about Sirius.

Though he still missed his godfather and greatly regretted the events of the past year, he began to realize that sulking was not going to make anything better and Sirius wouldn't have wanted him to spend his days in mourning and misery. So Harry let his friends, new and old, pull him from the funk he'd fallen into at the end of the school year.

.x.

Harry knocked briefly and entered the front room of the Jones's house, comfortably sure he'd be welcome. Not seeing anyone around, but hearing noises from the back, he wandered into the kitchen to find Derek and his uncle bent over a cauldron set up on the counter. The older man was so engrossed that he didn't even seem to notice Harry's entrance. Derek looked up at him briefly and said that Dumbledore had finally given his uncle the last of the over-the-summer assignments from the Hogwarts teachers for him to complete. He groused that his uncle was making him do extra work for a couple of the classes just to make sure he would be more than caught up, so that no one could find fault with his having been home-schooled.

"Makes sense to start with Potions then. Well, if you can assume you'll get an Outstanding on your O.W.L., anyway."

"Can't you?" the other boy replied, "Potions is easy; you just follow the directions and that's all there is to it."

Harry gave him a look of frank disbelief, but the boy seemed totally serious. "Nah, I'm hopeless at Potions, it'd be a miracle if I got into the N.E.W.T. class," Harry's tone was slightly wistful. He wasn't sure which he'd regret more, two more years with Snape, or not making it into the Auror program because of his lack of a N.E.W.T. score for Potions.

Derek's uncle, who'd moved on to chopping ingredients while the boys talked, paused and gave Harry an inscrutable look at his tone. "You sound rather disappointed by that fact."

Though Harry got on well enough with Derek most of the time, his uncle always seemed particularly reserved. Therefore Harry was more than a little surprised at being addressed, since the man didn't usually talk to him at all. "Well, I did want to get into the Auror program," Harry admitted, "but I don't do that well in Potions." Harry silently added that it was because the great Greasy Git hated him, but complaining to an adult he barely knew about Snape would seem like whining. He didn't want to garner the dislike of the guardian uncle of the only friend he'd ever had on Privet Drive.

"Well, you can hardly expect to do well if you don't put in sufficient effort."

Slightly irked, against his better judgement, Harry added a little snappishly, "No offense, sir, but it didn't really seem to matter. Once I realized as a first year that I got the exact same grade on an essay I spent days researching as one I spent an hour on, I stopped wasting my time. By the time I realized I wanted to be an Auror and needed Potions to get in, it was a bit late to learn everything I hadn't bothered with in between."

Having effectively gone back on his decision not to whine, Harry took a deep breath, and added quickly, "Sorry, I shouldn't complain to you about it. It's not that big of a deal, really. With the way things have been going lately, I'll be lucky to live long enough to be disappointed about not getting into the program. What's that you're working on?" Harry asked, trying to change the subject and cover his gaffe, leaning over to take a look in the cauldron. "Ugh, looks – and smells – like Polyjuice Potion," he added.

The two both gave him startled looks. Mr. Jones asked, "Surely Polyjuice is not part of Hogwarts pre-O.W.L. curriculum? It's far too advanced for younger students to be brewing, and I'm fully aware that Professor Snape does not do demonstratory brewing for the lower levels. Since the finished potion doesn't look like this, I have to wonder how you came across it."

Harry felt himself flush and tried to keep from looking too guilty. "Er, no, it wasn't something we did in class." Harry couldn't think of anything to say, so he didn't elaborate, which left the uncle giving him an expectant look that made him fidget uncomfortably.

"Sir, I don't want to get anybody in trouble, so I really don't want to say any more about it." Looking away, Harry missed the sly look crossing the man's face before he said, "If I'm not a teacher at your school, I can hardly hand out punishments, now can I? I must admit I'm quite curious."

"Well, I don't know how much you know about the various disasters at Hogwarts? In my second year the Chamber of Secrets got opened. Students were getting petrified, and we were really worried and convinced it was one of the students that hated us in Slytherin that was behind the whole thing, but we couldn't prove it. So my friend Hermione found the potion in a book and we – she mostly - brewed it in an abandoned lavatory to try and get a confession. Of course that was a huge waste of time since he didn't do it and knew hardly anything about it. Though the lavatory turned out to be the entrance to the Chamber, ironically enough."

The man gave him a look of disbelief, and said, "Granger – the busy haired girl staying at Headquarters – attempted to brew Polyjuice as a second year?" He shook his head, "At least you seem to have had enough sense not to drink it, since neither of you are in a long term ward at St. Mungo's."

Harry looked guilty. "Well," he started, but was a bit taken aback by the man's expression as he mentally worked his way through all of what Harry had said.

"You drank it," he said, sounding rather more appalled than Harry expected, and then his expression turning more startled, added, "And since you say your potential culprit knew very little, I surmise it worked correctly?"

Then Mr. Jones' expression changed to pure disbelief, "How in Merlin's name did you manage to get the recipe? Surely any book containing such dangerous potions would be housed in the school's Restricted Section?"

"Oh, well, that was easy enough. We had Lockhart that year for Defense – the fraud that wrote all those books about things other people did when the only spell he ever managed to master was _obliviate_? He didn't even blink when Hermione asked him to sign a pass for the book. Probably didn't even realize she wasn't just asking for an autograph," Harry added disgustedly. Harry noticed that Derek had a strange look on his face at the mention of Lockhart, but simply assumed that the boy must have also had the misfortune of meeting the twit.

Deciding to change the subject yet again, since further talk of illicitly brewing dangerous potions wasn't likely to endear him to Derek's uncle, Harry asked, "We're supposed to be getting our O.W.L. results any day now, aren't we? I'll be glad to have it over with and just know, if for no other reason than to not have to read any more overly anxious letters from Hermione about them."

.x.

It was true enough, as two days later, a strange owl showed up at his bedroom window with a packet containing his O.W.L. results. Harry waited before tearing the envelope open, suddenly anxious himself now that the results were in his hands. But realizing that it was far too late to affect them now, he went ahead and opened the letter. He scanned quickly down to the Potions score, since that was what he was truly anxious about, and was surprised to find that he had somehow miraculously gotten the required Outstanding. He also managed an O in Defense, of course, and Transfiguration, too. He'd gotten EEs in Charms, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures, as well as obtaining passing A grades for Astronomy, and very strangely, in Divination. He'd gotten a P in History of Magic, but considering that he'd answered very little of the test and passed out in the middle of it, he considered himself lucky not to have scored a D or T.

Enclosed was a reminder from Professor McGonogall of what courses he needed to become an Auror and which courses he was eligible to take because of his O.W.L.s scores. Also included was a booklist for those courses, and a reply form saying which classes he was choosing to continue with. The reminder ended with the suggestion that he let Mrs. Weasley know which courses he needed books for so that she could have his supplies picked up - since going to Diagon Alley himself would make him too easy of a target.

While Harry was still looking over his results, amazed that Hermione's prodding him into more intensive studying at the end of the year had actually gotten him such good grades, Pig arrived. He came bearing a letter from Ron and Hermione, detailing their own scores and asking excitedly how he'd done.

Hermione, of course, had nearly all Outstanding scores, though Ron gleefully reported that she'd only managed an EE in Astronomy. Ron only mentioned that he'd gotten 6 O.W.L.s, which made Harry think it likely that they were most likely Acceptables, since he didn't specify. Which made Harry a little torn about what to reply. On the one hand, he wanted to show Hermione she wasn't the only one who could get Outstandings, but considering Ron's occasional jealous fits, he didn't really want to rub it in that he'd gotten better scores.

When he finally wrote back, he just told them about the Outstandings in Defense (since that wasn't surprising) and Potions. Ron'd know when he ended up in the class, and was hardly going to be envious of spending more time in Snape's presence. He mentioned his total of 8 O.W.L.s, including a note to them that he hadn't the foggiest notion why he'd passed Divination.

It was much easier to tell Derek about his scores. The other boy had grades more like Hermione's, with Outstandings in all his subjects except Defense and Care of Magical Creatures, so Harry didn't have to worry too much about being chided for his grades being too low or too high. Derek did mock him a bit about his having doubted his ability to get into the Potions class, which made Harry think about Snape and frown, and have to explain that the unfortunate side of the score was that he actually had to take the class.


	8. A Grim, Old Place

.x.

* * *

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* * *

_Chapter Eight: A Grim, Old Place_

* * *

.

* * *

It wasn't until after he'd joked with Harry about their respective O.W.L. scores and the classes they could end up taking together it really hit Draco that he hadn't any idea what he'd do when the summer came to an end, which was now very soon. He'd started talking to Potter's cousin, and then Potter himself originally out of boredom. Well, that and the hope he could learn all kinds of embarrassing material to spread all across Hogwarts when school resumed. After all, just because he'd decided not to join the crazed loon of a Dark Lord, that didn't mean he wanted to end up acting like some sappy Gryffindor schmuck that was nice to everyone, or that he liked Potter the prat the least little bit. 

But now, weeks later, Draco was horrified to realize that he didn't want this strange camaraderie he had developed with the other boy to end. He'd tried to deny to himself that he was hanging out with Potter for any reason but potential blackmail, and he'd never stopped mentally making snide comments about him. Yet it didn't change the fact that he _liked_ spending time with Potter. All his life, Draco's "friends" had always agreed with him, let him win any competitions, and really only spent time with him at all because of his influential father. Potter didn't even know who he was and _couldn't_ be trying to curry favor, yet he still wanted to spend time with Draco. It was a difference that Draco was surprised to realize just how much he liked, even if it did make him feel ridiculously Hufflepuffish to think it.

As for Potter's feelings on the matter, when his 'Derek' persona didn't show up for the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of September, he would feel betrayed and it'd all be over anyway. Even if the Gryffindor never found out that Derek was Draco, it would be obvious that there had been some kind of deception. Since there was no way to explain, there was probably no way to get the other boy to forgive him. He certainly couldn't tell Potter who he was, the boy already hated him and revealing the elaborate fake identity scheme would only reinforce that hatred.

When yet another companionable afternoon with Potter came and went, Draco was feeling even worse about the situation that he'd managed to get himself into. Potter was nearly brimming with anticipation since he was being picked up at the end of the week to spend the last two remaining weeks of the summer at Order Headquarters. Of course Potter was happy, _he _had a whole new year with his stupid friends to look forward to, but Draco's year certainly wasn't looking very promising.

After having spent the summer with Harry and Severus, it was bad enough thinking about past years where he had let himself be limited to the companionship of Parkinson and the daft duo of Crabbe & Goyle. The rest of Slytherin was at least as bad or too young to be worth notice. Draco had never really put much thought into his relationships with his Housemates before this summer, and now after the death of – after his switching sides, Draco mentally amended, it was a situation with unpleasant ramifications.

He understood now that he'd never had anything more than toady-minded sycophants to his father's power, and wouldn't even have the illusion of friends when school resumed. In Draco's mind, it was a foregone conclusion that the entire House was going to shun him for defying the Dark Lord. Even if they weren't on the crazy dark wizard's side, no one in Slytherin was going to openly declare their allegiances by spending time with Draco and risk reprisals from their housemates or worse.

In fact, Draco realized with growing dismay, even those who'd attempted to remain neutral so far were likely to take part in the hailstorm of pranks he expected to endure. Granted, with Dumbledore as Headmaster and Snape as Head of House, no one should be stupid enough to try anything seriously harmful that could get them expelled, but anything short of that was probably fair game. Wincing, Draco realized that was likely true of the other Houses to an extent, too, since he'd made it clear he was better than them all these years. Draco could see the school year laid out before him, nothing but one continuous stretch of loneliness and humiliation.

He wanted to pout and complain, but Harry couldn't find out who he was and Snape, he knew from experience, would not tolerate such behavior. It wasn't doing Draco any good to brood on the matter now, so he made a concerted effort to turn his thoughts to something else and pondered his relationship with his godfather.

Once the Professor had gotten over his anger at Draco for originally blowing their cover, he'd had a chance to become closer to his godfather than he had ever been in years previous. While his father and Severus had been close friends in their school years, after the end of the first war they'd tried to maintain their distance, and so despite being Draco's godfather, Severus' visits to Malfoy Manor had been relatively few and far between. When he'd finally started going to school at Hogwarts, Severus had favored him a little in public, but in private made it very clear that Draco only had so much leeway before he'd be serving unofficial detentions.

Sharing a house with the man day in and day out had provided an enlightening experience. Draco was surprised to find that his godfather was a lot less prickly than the man who taught potions at Hogwarts – except when Harry came over to visit. He didn't think the oblivious Gryffindor had noticed quite how cold Severus was to him, but Draco certainly had and really wanted to know why the two had such antipathy for one another if they had both been on the same side all along. However, he could hardly ask Potter about a teacher he supposedly didn't know, and the ferocity of the scowl Severus had given him when he dared to ask him made it very clear that avenue of inquiry was not only closed, but locked and barred as well.

Though his reasons for such strong dislike of Potter were off-limits, Draco found himself discussing any number of other things with Severus Snape. He'd always enjoyed potions at Hogwarts because it came so easily to him, and that was certainly a safe topic of discussion that they spent many hours on. In fact, once it became clear that Draco's long afternoons with Harry Potter weren't going to result in them having to move into Order Headquarters, they generally got on well. Talking to his godfather about some things could be as awkward as mentioning the _Daily Prophet_ to Potter, however.

After he'd made a few choice remarks in the man's hearing, Severus had not only warned him sternly that it was not prudent to air his thoughts on blood politics, but had even been trying to convince him that pure blood wasn't everything. It was his favorite topic once the scoldings about potentially blowing their cover had finally died down. Draco wasn't even sure that Severus himself really believed it, despite harping on the subject. Yet hearing that the Dark Lord himself was no more a pureblood than Potter was, well, that'd been a real shock, and so had Severus' own admission of having a muggle father. Draco had promised to think it over, but deep down, he just couldn't believe someone like that mudblood Granger was worthy to be considered equal to a wizard of venerable heritage such as he. However, it didn't take Snape's lectures for him to realize that no matter how he really felt, saying anything of the kind now that he was firmly allied with Dumbledore and Potter who did believe such tripe would be truly stupid.

After the day that Potter found them brewing in the kitchen, he'd talked his concerns about his friendship with Potter over with his godfather. Severus was once again irritated at him, this time for saying he'd be going to Hogwarts that fall, as it "most certainly had not been any part of the plan." They, well, his godfather, anyway, had decided he would simply have to tell Harry circumstances had changed and he wouldn't be attending the school. Draco was even more put out when his godfather warned him in no uncertain terms that Potter couldn't owl him, since Potter's owl was so distinctive and even he would doubtless notice if the creature dropped his notes to Draco Malfoy.

He'd hoped at first that since Snape had suggested a plausible story for where he was going to be for the next year that Draco could at least send Potter mail, and protested that surely he could use school owls or _something_. When Snape glared at him (he had been on the verge of whining, after all), and said that even if Potter didn't notice that he was using school owls or that any time he sent a note off it went to Draco, eventually _someone would_. Draco didn't like it, but finally gave in and let the subject drop.

The professor also informed him that when Potter left for Headquarters, they would likewise move there for the remaining weeks before the term began. Since they'd supposedly been there all summer, they would be expected to accompany the others to the train, and the simulacra in their place wouldn't be able to pull that off.

Seeing Potter the next day, he didn't have to fake being dejected. He told the other boy he wouldn't be able to attend Hogwarts because his uncle had just been given an Order mission to an undisclosed location, possibly out of the country, and he didn't want to leave his nephew behind. He added that because it was so secretive, he'd be completely unable to receive any owl post for the duration, trying not to sound quite as surly as he felt Draco was perversely gratified to see this news bring down the bright mood Potter had been in ever since he'd found out he would be seeing his friends at the end of the week.

Before Draco knew it, he was saying his final goodbye of the summer to Potter. The day after, he helped Severus pack up their things to move to Order headquarters. Draco briefly wondered if other members of the Order were going to use the house during the school year, or what else might happen with it, but decided not to bother asking since most questions like that ended with Severus responding that he didn't need to know.

After just a few days there, Draco was thanking Merlin that he and Professor Snape had spent the holidays at Privet Drive. Being boarded up in a small set of rooms with his godfather, who was in an ill temper from the moment they crossed the threshold, was certainly not fun. Hearing the constant tromping of the entire Weasley tribe at all hours of the day and night was enough to drive anyone mad in short order all on its own. Adding those together with having absolutely nothing to do since he'd already finished his summer work and then some left Draco really wanting to curse something into oblivion.

True, he and his godfather had spent some evenings at the old, ramshackle dwelling, so that the Order would believe they were staying there and wouldn't question it if something went wrong and they had to move in and came out of their rooms once in a while. Yet spending an evening or two and being stuck there for the next two weeks were vastly different things, Draco discovered.

It certainly didn't help that from what he could hear, Potter was having a grand old time with the Weasel clan and the mudblood and had apparently already forgotten all about him, which made him angry. But he couldn't even work himself up into a righteous sulk, because he knew that would only make his godfather even more irritable.

Though Snape and Mrs. Weasley both assured him that they'd promised dire retribution to any of the other kids for messing with him, his godfather had also said that it would be prudent to make himself scarce. The man suggested he only roam about when the others were likely to be occupied, or at least supervised. Against this advice, Draco was sneaking down to the kitchens late in the evening to get a snack when he noticed a door to what appeared to be the library ajar. When he heard the Weasel's angry voice from inside, he paused to listen.

"I don't know what the Order's thinking, letting that stinkin' Malfoy git stay at headquarters. I'll just bet he's waiting to turn us all over to Voldemort, first chance he gets!"

"Oh Ron," he heard Granger say exasperatedly, "grow up! You've been spouting the same nonsense since they came here at the beginning of the summer. You really think you know better than Dumbledore? You don't!"

"Well, you're as bad as Hagrid! You never want to think ill of anyone, even that Ferrety little git! With as many times as he's called you nasty things, you still wanna give him a chance! Snape was bad enough, but Malfoy? Come on! I'll bet Harry agrees with _me_, right Harry?"

Draco was tempted to leave at that moment, because despite his annoyance with the other boy for not being sufficiently depressed by his absence, he didn't want to hear himself put down by someone he'd so recently come to think of as a friend. At the same time, however, he couldn't bring himself to walk away and not hear what Harry was going to say.

There was a silence before Harry responded, "Sorry, Ron, Hermione's right." At a sound of outrage from Weasley, Harry continued, "Look, I didn't want to tell you by owl, but I know why Malfoy's here," he paused when the other two made exclamations, then continued with, "Ow, Ron! After everything you didn't tell me last year, I don't really think you've got much room to complain, you git. Anyway, I had another vision, and saw through Voldemort again," the boy paused for his friends to get over their gasps of dismay. "He killed Lucius Malfoy right in front of his son, and was torturing Professor Snape, who's apparently his godfather. Explains why he favors the git so much."

"Well anyway, Malfoy jumps up and calls him a monster and a joke, right to his ugly snake face! Professor Snape managed to portkey them both out before he recovered from the shock. So frankly, at this point, I think Voldemort's as likely to ask to be best mates with me as Malfoy is to be working for him."

Though they continued talking, Draco heard a creaking on the stairs, and decided that he'd best get down to the kitchens and back to his rooms before he was spotted by someone like the Weasley twins, or worse, caught out eavesdropping, too.

* * *

.x.

* * *

As his second week at Grimmauld place began, Harry found himself eager to get back to Hogwarts. The first week had passed smoothly, and though being here reminded him of his godfather some, he was just so glad to see all the Weasleys and Hermione that he didn't really think about it too much. But after a week, he was having trouble remaining in a cheerful frame of mind in the oppressive atmosphere of the old house. True, after purging most of the dark magic and the euthanization of Kreacher, the house was in a much better state. But Harry had just finally managed to stop dwelling so heavily on Sirius' death, and now he was back here where his godfather had been stuck so miserably for so long, and all those feelings were shoved back to the surface. Harry didn't feel so full of blame and recriminations as he had at the beginning of the summer, but wandering the dreary house still left him feeling rather hollow if he allowed himself to dwell on it. 

The one time he'd encountered Professor Snape in the hallway the week before, he had felt a wave of the old hatred returning at the sight of the greasy git sneering down at him. It only lasted as long as it took him to remember the surge of pleasure Voldemort had felt torturing the man, which made him shudder and turn away. He didn't have to like the git, but Harry refused to end up like Voldemort, stewing in hatred and thoughts of revenge all the time.

He'd seen Malfoy a couple of times, too, but after the dire warning from Mrs. Weasley, he'd gone out of his way to avoid the other boy, so that even if Malfoy wanted to start something, Harry wouldn't be the one to get in trouble for it. Maybe Malfoy had been smart enough in the end to see Voldemort for what he was, but that didn't mean the other boy was suddenly any less the sneaky, stuck-up git he'd been all his life. The best Harry figured he could hope for was mutual avoidance, now that Malfoy was on their side.

* * *

.x.

* * *

Severus had warned him that the morning the train left was always a circus for the Weasleys and that he shouldn't bother getting ready very early since the group as a whole wouldn't be ready to go until the very last minute. Draco had figured his godfather was exaggerating somewhat, and had gotten ready to go with plenty of time to spare, which left him with nothing to do but wait around. As he sat on his trunk in the entryway of Grimmauld Place, listening to the hectic sounds of the other students upstairs trying to get everything together in time to make the train, Draco Malfoy reflected on what Potter had said about him that night in the library. He realized that there was probably an opening there, if he did want to be friends with the boy. After all, it was a far shorter step from allies to friends than it was from enemies to friends. True, it would take a lot of work on his part, but wouldn't having Harry back be worth it? 

Aside from their longstanding animosity, which it wouldn't behoove Draco to reignite in any case since they were on the same side now, there were other things to consider. The biggest problem, he figured, was Potter's other friends. It was obvious that barring their sudden, violent deaths, being friends with Harry meant at least tolerating them, because they were inseparable. He couldn't even count the number of times over the summer that he'd had to grit his teeth and try not to show any irritation while Potter waxed lyrical about weasel and the mudblood. Was it really worth it to associate with those types just to befriend Harry Potter all over again? There were, after all, any number of other students outside of Slytherin that he could probably cultivate with far more ease.

Then again, considering how firmly he had been entrenched on the side of the Dark Lord and how thoroughly he had burned all those bridges, Draco had left himself dangerously adrift from both sides. Yet what better way to gain a firm footing with his new allies than to befriend a figurehead like Potter? Surely that would eventually enable him to form ties with nearly anyone on this side he so chose? While Draco was fond of Severus, the two weeks at Headquarters had shown him just how isolated his godfather was from the other members of the Order, and he didn't want to end up in that position.

Besides, Draco grimaced to himself at having the traitorous Hufflepuff thought again, he _liked_ being friends with Potter. It was going to be a lot of work, but it wasn't like Draco was going to have much to do with himself outside of school work this year anyway. Since the ruckus from upstairs had yet to show any signs of dying down, Draco got right into plotting. It was definitely going to be a long and painful year, but he was a Slytherin, damn it, and he would make it work to his advantage.

.x.

.x.

.x.

A/N: ... and that's the end of this part of the story. It felt like this chapter took obscenely long to get up, but after tweaking little bits of the last 7, this one didn't quite fit anymore and needed some extensive patching. There will be a sequel covering the following school year, but I won't begin posting until it's written through, and it's not started yet (I have another 6th year fic I started before this that I'm currently struggling through the end on, which is holding things up right now).

I do appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read and/or review this fic. Thank you.  
I hope you enjoyed it.


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